I'm So Tight

"Oh fuck," I groaned, moaning as I feel the tight and hot wetness of my sex clamp at my finger and suck on it, eager to pull it into me.

I was gasping hard, breathing as my face was buried into the pillow to muffle my cries and my words and my everything. To keep it all secret. To keep it all safe.

Clenching my eyes shut I focused on the feel of my finger inside of me. The double edged sword of it, both feeling and being felt. Both finger and sex and all of it so sensitive, so tight, so perfect.

Pulling back I could hear the sounds of my wetness protesting it. I pushed forward again nearly instantly, feeling each and every bump and flat of my finger as I pressed it inside and curled and flexed it, feeling the limits of myself.

There wasn't much. It didn't take much to know that this sex of mine had never been filled by anything before. That I was all fresh and new and utterly untouched, even by her own self.

A few fumbling attempts in the darkness and some exploration, sure, but really it was all few and far between. Guilt and shame and hesitation and uncertainty all clouding her thoughts and her efforts and always making her pull back a little too soon.

She'd had pleasure before, might have even had a climax. But all of it was uncertain and foggy and innocent, frankly, with none of it having the indecent desperation she was showing now.

Or should I say I was showing, because it was clear now that it was me driving this.

My thumb finds the hard nub of my clit and begins to stroke back and forth, finding a pattern that can match in pace the movement of my finger in and out of me. The two of them finding their time and their rhythm and building in me this hot bubble of excitement that was beginning to double and grow and spread through my body.

"Fuck," I moan, "Oh fuck it feels so fucking good."

My voice is low and throaty but it strikes me how undeniably feminine it is. And while that itself doesn't give me a moments pause, the thrill that runs up through me and sparkles on the surface of my skin at the thought that my voice could be described as feminine gives me a delight that I relish, laughing and giggling and then moaning low and throaty again at the end of it, as the pleasure builds in me.

Pulling my finger out I press it up and down the lips of my sex and spread the wetness of my juices. I feel the pert folds of me, teasing at them before pausing again at my entrance and then, smiling wickedly, pressing a second finger in to join the first.

Fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fucking god.

"I'm so fucking tight."

I was feeling that from both ends too. The crush of it around my fingers and the feeling of fullness as well, the feeling of being pressed to my limit. Not stretched but just filled somehow and for a moment when I first press in I can barely even move as the walls of my sex tighten reflexively around my fingers and squeeze so hard that I shudder and cry out, burying my face in the pillow even deeper to muffle myself.

A wave of tightness rocks my body and I tense on it, riding it like I'm surfing it to new pleasures. It rolls over me and I can't even move for an instant, just feeling every inch of muscle in me tighten until it finally relaxes, until I slump into it and groan with delight.

That wasn't a climax but it was something else. It was pleasure that I never truly understood before. But something that I knew I could know, all of it so complicated that I can barely even find the words to describe it.

The feeling of being filled. The feeling of my body being pressed to the limit. The feeling of myself just stretched almost to the edge of pain before I shift to accomodate.

Before I feel my body adjust.

Before I'm ready for even more.

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